Driving Lessons
by silentskulls
Summary: Cornelius tries to give his son driving lessons. But this is Wilbur. And of course he'll fail.


All characters (C) Disney/William Joyce

**All characters (C) Disney/William Joyce**

**A/N: I have never in my life driven behind the wheel, so if something happens while he drives that could never actually happen, let me know. Or just excuse it for the fact that they live in 2040.**

Wilbur Robinson was no longer the selfish, cocky thirteen year old he was before. Now he was sixteen, and his mouth looked more like his father's then it did a few years ago. His personality had only barely changed, and he seemed only a bit calmer. (At least he wasn't seemingly _teleporting_ everywhere anymore) As he sat in the hovercraft, his hands gripping the wheel, he smiled nervously at his dad as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Alright, Wilbur," he said, sounding confident and encouraging, "start it up." Hesitantly, Wilbur reached for the keys. He hated accidentally twisting it the wrong way and having the alarm go off, but he didn't want to ask which way he had to twist it. He wondered why, after thirty-something years, everyone still had to manually turn on their vehicles. As he pinched the keys between his fingers firmly, he winded it towards him and caused the alarm to blare off. Both of them jumped at the sudden noise and Wilbur resorted to covering his ears. "Turn it off, Wilbur!!" Cornelius yelled. He quickly grabbed the keys and yanked them out. It didn't stop the alarm. "Wilbur!" he exclaimed, glaring at him and then at the ignition slot. Wilbur only shrugged and opened and closed his mouth, trying to form an actual sentence. Cornelius scowled, yanked the keys out of his sons grip and shoved them into their proper place, twisting it back into its neutral position. When the alarm finally quieted down, Wilbur looked at his father with a nervous chuckle, but his father just looked ruffled.

"Uhh… Sorry, dad," he said softly, shrugging. Cornelius readjusted his glasses, clearing his throat.

"Just start the car, Wilbur," he said. Wilbur finally got used to the fact that his father still called the hovercrafts "cars", since he had done so for as long as he could remember. (It was a habit, after all, and Wilbur was probably the best person to know how hard it is to break habits.)

"Alright… Starting the car… Yes," he said, gripping it again and making sure to twist it forward. Sure enough, no alarm went off, and instead the engine revved up. It was a satisfying noise.

"Okay, Wilbur. I obviously trust you enough behind the wheel, but I'm a bit apprehensive of you going _anywhere_ outside the garage. But I think you should go out anyway." Wilbur noticed the nervous look on his father's face.

"Do you need to get out of the car?" (He noticed it was catching on)

"No, because then you'd have no tutor." Wilbur nodded slowly, looking back to towards the windshield. "Alright, now put it in gear." Slowly, he looked towards the controls. _Shoot,_ he thought, _a stick shift. Why does 2040 have _stick shiftsAllowing himself no time to ponder, he shifted it into second gear and slowly made his way out of the garage. Cornelius nodded approvingly. "Not bad, Wilbur. I'm impressed," he said, smiling. "Alright, now speed up a bit. Pretend you're on a highway." Wilbur stepped harder onto the gas. The engine began fuming. "Wilbur, switch gears!" he exclaimed. The teenager's worried glance fell upon the stick as he clutched it, switching it into reverse. It flew backwards and rammed into a tree, giving Wilbur some extreme whiplash and causing Cornelius's glasses to fall off his face. (Thankfully, they hadn't broken, as it wasn't a major crash.)

"… Ow," Wilbur said softly, gripping his neck and rubbing it. He looked at his dad with a concerned look. "Are you alright, dad?" he asked. Cornelius nodded, placing his glasses back on.

"I'm fine. Can't say the same for the car." Wilbur looked ashamed. Cornelius sighed slightly. "It's alright, though. I don't—"

"Here, let me just move forward a bit."

"Wilbur, don't!" Wilbur, confident in his own decision, drove forward, but had only switched to first. The engine began to fire up.

Literally.

Cornelius, upon noticing, screamed and ripped the keys out of the ignition. He slammed his door open and unbuckled Wilbur's and his own seatbelt.

"Get out!!" he exclaimed, rushing out of the hovercraft. Wilbur jumped out and ran a safe distance away, staring at the now mangled vehicle. His father stood beside him and stared, as well. Wilbur chuckled nervously.

"… I'm guessing 'I'm sorry' doesn't cover it?" he asked in a tiny voice. Cornelius shrugged and shook his head, but said nothing. After he did that for a few minutes—sometimes stopping, opening his mouth to say something, closing it, and shrugging again—he finally let out a bit of a squeak that was actually a sentence.

"You're grounded."


End file.
